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<title>Something Tragic About You (Something So Magic About You) by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364924">Something Tragic About You (Something So Magic About You)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen'>FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, F/F, Falling In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Post-War, Pre-Femslash, Tea, Widowed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:34:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two souls gone astray find comfort in silence - together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daphne Greengrass/Narcissa Black Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Femmefest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Something Tragic About You (Something So Magic About You)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/gifts">hippocrates460</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Would you care for another cup of tea, Madame Malfoy?"</p><p>The older woman — who had only just passed fifty and lost nothing of her beauty, yet aged by many more years on the inside in the moment her husband had taken his final breath — brushed off the girl’s rather timid attempt at conversation with a weary gesture of her hand, leaning back in her large armchair without ever losing her posture, mentioned cup resting still half-full upon her lap, never taking her eyes off her. </p><p>She was pretty enough; young, in her early twenties, perhaps, with long, blonde hair‚ tied into a beautiful braided chignon at the back of her head. Those blue eyes often reminded Narcissa of her own, even if they had lost that youthful spark long before she had even reached the age of eighteen. Daphne Greengrass, however, still possessed it. Her movements were graceful, yet restrained in a way, as though she had been told too many times before to hold back, to be quiet, to smile, and to obey. </p><p>It did not come as a surprise to her to see such behaviour. The Greengrass sisters, in a way, could have been a lot like the infamous Black sisters themselves, yet had been fortunate enough not to endure the family tragedies of the eldest succumbing to insanity at an early age and the middle daughter being a disgrace to her ancestors’ name, which Daphne often liked to justify with an ever-so-cynical remark that, in fact, they were only two girls, and not three. </p><p>Cynicism was not well received in a world like theirs, but perhaps Miss Daphne Greengrass found it to be her very own, personal form of rebellion. May it be, it was none of Narcissa’s interest, as long as it weren’t to affect her personally. </p><p>Daphne’s forehead curled into a frown at the frantic search for an appropriate topic for conversation, eyes narrowing, her porcelain-like cheeks blushing with heat in spite of the temperature within the room; Narcissa had always preferred the cold, and she was certain that this matter of fact was merely a small contributing factor to the sobriquet the younger generation had picked for her. The Ice Empress. </p><p>"Please, Miss Greengrass, by all means. Leave," she said after a while, giving a deep sigh. "You are too young to be locked into a dark room with your sister’s mother-in-law. I am very well capable of keeping myself busy, there most certainly is no need to look after me."</p><p>It must have been Draco, asking her to keep his mother company, for a reason that only he might understand. They had not fought since Lucius’ passing as it seemed to be nothing but a waste of breath and emotion for either of them, yet had had many discussions in the aftermath, all revolving around one thing, and one thing alone. </p><p>"Mother, I cannot bear to watch you drift more and more into loneliness," he would often tell her, sounding more like this father than eve before, even unconsciously assuming the majority of his movements and gestures. </p><p>Over the course of the years, Narcissa had grown weary of the topic. She had been widowed young and shed her fair amount of tears, still wept until this present day, would grieve her husband, her love, for as long as she lived, but what was there to do about it? Wallow in pity for herself, moan and rail against her fate as though she were a child, refusing to accept the loss of the life she had grown up to live? </p><p>Of course she was alone. Bella had been gone already long before her death, and Andromeda was not to be spoken about, while her son had his own wing in Malfoy Manor to share with his wife and their future child that they would scarcely leave unless it was to go to work, or to take in a rare meal with her, usually in silence. But solitude did not equal loneliness, no matter how fine the difference, and certainly Narcissa was not lonely. </p><p>It remained unknown to her which greater purpose those weekly visits by Daphne were supposed to serve, or how Astoria had blackmailed her pitiful little sister to consent, but they would usually last no longer than thirty minutes, and merely boil down to a cup of tea and some biscuits in uncomfortable silence. </p><p>The girl suffered enough from her existence. Daphne had been compared more than once to the Ice Empress, the lonesome reigning queen of the Black Family, throughout her childhood, the years at school, and more than ever now - the whispers were no longer whispers, but equaled screams. Narcissa, knowing her from the moment of her birth, had never quite caught the resemblance, neither in looks nor in demeanour, not until this very moment, as the young woman gave her a brief smile, for the first time since the war had begun.</p><p>"Oh, It’s quite all right," said Daphne, reaching for the final biscuit on the small silver plate. "I enjoy spending time with you. With a mother like mine, silence is a rare treat - it was Astoria who insisted I keep you… Entertained with conversation."</p><p>She laughed, and did not even have the decency to blush. Such bluntness was a remarkable trait, one that Narcissa had often wished to possess, even if only for a minute at a time, as soon after she had been able to witness one of her sisters being scolded for expressing a thought or opinion too freely even for their parents’ enjoyment. But times had changed, she supposed, and who was she to judge… Having shared a dormitory with Daphne’s mother for seven years at school. </p><p>Narcissa would not allow herself to smile, but merely nodded briefly in approval, reaching out to pour herself a second cup of tea after all. She would gladly provide refuge for her for a while if she, too, were seeking for peace, quiet, and most of all — silence. </p><p>"In that case…" she replied "You are most welcome to stay for as long as you wish."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Most certainly Narcissa would not grant Draco — or Astoria, for what it was worth — the triumph of success with whatever they had attempted to aim at by arranging strange tea parties for two grown women as though they were little children, but, as soon as the curse of deafening silence had been lifted and turned into a silence most pleasant, she had come to enjoy, and later to cherish, Daphne’s visits, who proved herself to have matured into a most sophisticated and intelligent young lady. Yet, there was something tragic about her she could not quite make out.<p>They spoke only on rare occasions, and it was much to Narcissa’s dismay that in those moments they would indeed discover several similarities between them — perhaps those whispers were not all that mistaken after all… Even if for Daphne’s sake she hoped that they were.</p><p>She looked distraught tonight, barely capable of holding her gaze, fingers fidgeting nervously, pale as a ghost… Narcissa would not inquire further — they had come to the silent agreement that, should they feel the desire to speak about anything at all bothering them, they would address the issue themselves, and not succumb to any form of pressure. Instead, she would merely pour her another cup of tea and gently push the plate of biscuits closer to her, as a quiet gesture of her ever-present willingness to listen. </p><p>Daphne seemed to understand. "I… really don’t wish to bother you…" she said with a quiet sigh, smiling briefly, but it was no genuine smile. Far from it. </p><p>"You most certainly would not still be sitting in this chair every week if you were bothering me," responded Narcissa briefly. "Take this information however you wish."</p><p>A single drop of blood fell from the girl’s lips, as though she had chewed on them without cease throughout the entire duration of her visit and not long after she began to cry, began to sob incessantly, her entire body shaking as what must have been weighed upon her chest for too long came bursting out of her in countless words. </p><p>Narcissa had never been a good comforter. Not as a sister, nor as wife or mother. There were many actions she regretted now, many years after. Many moments she wished to undo, many wounds that, had she been capable of comforting those she loved the most, could have closed much sooner, and not inflicted ever-so-slight tears on bonds that were meant to be unbreakable as much as invincible. </p><p>She would do better now. What did she have to lose, after all? What had she had to lose all those years ago? It all seemed so ridiculous to her now. So meaningless. What fools they had been. Daphne had grown so much dearer to her heart than she would ever have dared to assume, only realised now as she saw her weep, and yet felt as though she had been turned into stone. Helplessness was one of those emotions Narcissa despised more than anything else. Perhaps even more than the pressing feelings of weakness and failure, looming above her as an ever-present, ever-threatening sword of Damocles. </p><p>Daphne’s breathing fastened and flattened both, in a way that seemed rather concerning, but how was she to blame after such an upsetting argument with her mother, in true danger of being disowned out of nothing but sheer caprice? Narcissa herself had never quite dared to stand up to her parents — who had loved their daughters, no doubt, yet laid great value on respect and strict observance of tradition — but witnessed fierce arguments involving either of her sisters, more than once catching Bella in her often-failed attempts to sneak out of the house afterwards… Had Mother allowed her to stay away from home for only a night, certainly many unpleasant scenes would have been avoided…</p><p>"If… you wish to escape for a night, Daphne… I have plenty of spare bedrooms."</p><p>The suggestion was sincere yet rather hesitant, half-believing that Daphne would at last calm herself and then deny, but instead, much to Narcissa’s horror, she threw herself into her arms, moistening her cloak with her tears… </p><p>Narcissa felt, as though she had turned into stone. For a moment she, too, seemed to breathe faster than usual, and yet not at all… Had… They ever touched before? Certainly not in such a way, but… Hadn’t their hands slightly brushed each other once, perhaps twice, when reaching for a biscuit or the tea pot? She could not recall… Time seems to stand still. Daphne’s heart-wrenching sobs seemed to have fallen silent, so suddenly… </p><p>Normally, she would have pushed anyone away seeking her embrace, but instead she held her, held her so close to her and it felt as though she, too, were crumbling apart right in this moment… </p><p>"Please forgive me, Madame Malfoy…" Daphne whispered, dared not look up to her yet at the same time would not move away. "I know it’s not… appropriate… to cry…"</p><p>"Crying liberates," responded Narcissa, carefully brushing away a strand of, her hand moving as though it were controlled by another force, a force so much greater than her mind… "It’s not something to apologise for, you should wear your tears with pride, and not be ashamed of them."</p><p>If only she were able to follow her own advice. </p><p>It was so difficult to look at her… To see her so full of despair at such a young age… But perhaps it was true after all. Perhaps the Greengrass sisters resembled the Black sisters more than either side had come to realise, perhaps… Perhaps their families, their souls, were connected stronger than they thought. </p><p>Again, Daphne smiled, ever-so-slightly and yet, this time it was sincere. All of a sudden, her tears seemed full of hope. Had she, too…? Narcissa, for the first time in many years, returned her smile, and it was as though a fog was lifted not only from her eyes, but also her heart. It was so clear now. Everything was so, so clear.   </p><p>"Let’s go to sleep, darling…" she murmured, slowly leading Daphne up the stairs and not towards a spare, but the master bedroom. "Tomorrow will be another day…"</p><p>Yes… Yes, tomorrow would be another day, indeed. And perhaps, somehow, it would mark an entirely new beginning as well.</p>
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